


watch the stars from my window sill

by cynical_optimist



Category: Lovely Little Losers
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Balthazar's Birthday Party, Drinking, M/M, Multi, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, discussion of aphobia, somehow i have found myself shipping jaquie and rosa, very angst i apologise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5168363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynical_optimist/pseuds/cynical_optimist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you want to head outside?” he asks.</p><p>“I don’t, uh…” Balthazar looks around. “It’s a bit rude of me to leave my own birthday party, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Just for a few minutes,” Peter suggests. “Get a bit of fresh air.”</p><p>He looks down, then around at the partygoers, and Peter sees him wince as Costa almost trips over a chair. “Yeah, okay,” he says.</p><p> </p><p>Balthazar is sad on his birthday and Peter accidentally makes it worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	watch the stars from my window sill

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like reading angst but then I read all the angst and [Sarah](http://www.douchenuts.tumblr.com/) told me not to write a birthday fic so I did. This will most likely be canonballed on Tuesday.
> 
> [mainly i wanted to talk about the aphobia in the shenanigans rule because what the heck, flatmates?]
> 
>  
> 
> Title from "World Goes Madly On" by The Weepies.

The flat do everything they can to make Balthazar’s birthday fun. There's booze, there's decorations, there's friends, and, best of all, there's no rules. It should be amazing.

 

And Balthazar smiles, of course. He grins and makes conversation with anyone who ventures over to his couch and thanks Rosa and Ben for organising the party, and seems, too all not studying closely, to be perfectly content. Peter is mature enough to admit he's studying closely. He can tell the difference between Balthazar’s fake and real smiles, has since they were fifteen and learning that the world wasn't quite so perfect as they thought it was when they were twelve.

 

This smile is most definitely fake.

 

He sees the way Balthazar’s fingers tap on his thigh, on the armrest, anywhere he can reach, but Ben, well-meaning Ben, had taken all his instruments and demanded he “have fun for once.” Peter wonders how Ben can be so oblivious, after knowing him for years. Surely anyone could see the discomfort in every plane of Balthazar’s body, his slight fidgeting belying the vulnerability he feels without an instrument.

 

“Peter,” Jacquie says, snapping his attention away from his flatmate. “Are you okay?”

 

“Hm?” He blinks, taking a moment to process her words. “No, yeah, I'm cool.”

 

Jacquie squints at him. “Right,” she says. “You know you can’t handle alcohol nearly as well as you think you do, right?”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“It means that, if you get even a little bit tipsy, _everything_ becomes about your ex over there.”

 

Peter sighs. “He’s not my ex, Jacquie. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

She laughs, taking a sip of her beer. “‘ _Oh, Jacquie, he’s just...I don’t understand him sometimes, you know? Like I know he feels something for me, and I feel something for him, but it still isn’t working for us. I don’t know what to do_ \--’” She dodges as he tries to cover her mouth clumsily, laughing loudly.

 

“Shush,” he insists, but he’s fighting a smile. “The whole party doesn’t need to hear.”

 

Jacquie gives him an amused look and shakes her head. “The whole party already knows,” she sighs, and Peter doesn’t know how to respond to that. “How about you go talk to him instead of moping here. Your negativity is affecting me.”

 

Peter hesitates. He looks over at Balth, sees him making casual conversation with vegan Fred, the way his arms are folded across his chest. “I…”

 

Jacquie rolls her eyes. “I’m going to go find someone to talk to… isn’t Rosa Jones somewhere around here? I haven’t seen her in ages.” Her grin is wide but there is something a little wistful in her eyes.

 

“You're drunk,” he sighs as she walk off.

 

“That’s the best thing to be!” she calls, not looking back.

 

“Make wise decisions,” he shouts.

 

“Since when?”

 

He laughs, shaking his head, and looks back at Balthazar. The musician is nodding along to the conversation, but it's obvious, if only to Peter, that he's not comfortable in the situation. He takes a sip of his beer and heads over, weaving through the people dancing to the music. He might join them later, when he's drunk and thus more confident in his dance skills.

 

Balthazar smiles when he sits next to him on the couch, and it's not exactly genuine, but it's not the plastic smile he presents to the rest of the party. “Hey, Pete,” he greets.

 

“Hey, bro.”

 

They fall into a silence that isn't awkward but it's comfortable either, an Peter finds it difficult to look away from his eyes. The flower crown, provided by Paige and Chelsey, offsets them beautifully.

 

The moment is interrupted by another of the party-goers. “Balthazar, right?” she asks. “Happy birthday.”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, and the plastic smile is back. Peter takes another swig of his beer.

 

“One of Rosa’s friends?” he asks, and Balth nods.

 

“Yeah, she thought it would be good for me, you know?”

 

Peter nods. He can see her reasoning, thrives on the thrum of people around him, the loud music, the energy. He'd thought that Balthazar would enjoy it too, at first, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that he's cut from a different cloth. Like John, sitting in the corner with a book and perfectly content.

 

Balthazar looks down at his hands, rubbing them together. “I miss my instruments, though,” he confesses.

 

“Do you want to go get one?”

 

“Locked away somewhere,” he shrugs. “Ben and Bea disappeared with them and I'm kinda scared to go look.”

 

Peter huffs. “That wasn't fair of him,” he says.

 

Balthazar shrugs. “He means well, though.”

 

He looks down at his hands, nodding but not agreeing. The last thing he wants to do is argue with Balthazar on his birthday. Someone, one of Rosa’s friends, stumbles past, almost landing on Balthazar. Peter sighs.

 

“Do you want to head outside?” he asks.

 

“I don’t, uh…” Balthazar looks around. “It’s a bit rude of me to leave my own birthday party, isn’t it?”

 

“Just for a few minutes,” Peter suggests. “Get a bit of fresh air.”

 

He looks down, then around at the partygoers, and Peter sees him wince as Costa almost trips over a chair. “Yeah, okay,” he says.

 

“Great.” Peter stands, taking a sip of his beer before putting it down and extending a hand to Balthazar. “Might as well take advantage of the suspension of the rules,” he explains, at his querying look.

 

Balthazar hesitates for half a moment before accepting the hand up, and when they walk away from the couch he doesn’t let go. Peter can see Jacquie grinning at him out of the corner of his eye, and he shakes his head, glaring at her. She pokes her tongue out at him and turns back to Rosa.

 

“Did you know your sister knew Jacquie?” he asks Balthazar, as they walk out the back door.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Balth nods. “I think I met her once, too.”

 

“Huh.”

 

Balthazar lets go of his hand then, and Peter finds himself missing the warmth. He won’t push it though, not again, not when he’s just started to recover from Ben posting the extra footage from Stay.

 

“Thanks,” he says, and it’s so quiet that Peter almost misses it.

 

“No problem.”

 

“Yeah, you don’t really have to stick with me,” Balthazar says. “I would have thought, with a night off from the rules…”

 

Peter looks up at the stars, biting his cheek. “I’ll leave if you want me to,” he says. “But it’s your birthday. And sure, I hate the rules, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to give Ben and Freddie more ammo the moment I have the chance.”

 

Balthazar nods. “Fair enough,” he says.

 

Peter sits down on the grass and pats the spot next to him. “Come on.”

 

Still not quite smiling, he complies, leaning back on his arms to stare at the sky. He is beautiful like that, flower crown on his perfect hair and a billion stars reflected in his eyes.

 

 _I love you_ , Peter wants to say, and knows he can’t, not now, not when it could go so horribly wrong and ruin Balthazar’s birthday. “It’s a great night,” he says instead, and the musician nods.

 

“Yeah,” he agrees, and his eyes meet Peter’s. “It’s great not to have the camera, like, right in my face, too.”

 

Peter nods. “That is not a rule that I enjoy.”

 

“I think I saw Chelsey running around with the camera before, though.”

 

“Well,” he shrugs. “She’s not likely to post personal business.”

 

“Yeah, no.”

 

They fall into silence, Balthazar looking at the stars and Peter looking at Balthazar. They’ll have to go back inside soon, he knows, but this moment, just the two of them and the empty night, fills him with a strange mix of joy and longing he has been feeling in varying levels all year.

 

“It is nice having a break from the rules, though,” Balthazar says, after a while. “Like, sure, I like the vegetarian rule, but some of them are a bit…” He trails off, and there is something fragile in his voice.

 

“You know, they don’t actually think that sex and love are the same thing,” Peter says, and sees Balthazar swallow. “Just like they didn’t really mean to target me with that rule, they didn’t mean to hurt you. Not that it makes it any less terrible or that they don’t need to apologise, but that’s not… even with Bea and Ben, I’m sure it wasn’t the intention.”

 

“Sure,” he says, barely above a whisper.

 

“Even if they do, it’s just another of their opinions that everyone knows is wrong and never dares to oppose. Which is stupid, really, but not as stupid as the idea that they are. The same thing, that is.”

 

Balthazar shrugs. “It’s their opinion,” he says. “Just because it’s not one I agree with doesn’t mean they’re not allowed to keep it.”

 

“Well, they’re wrong,” Peter assures him. “The entire rule is just--”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Peter reaches across hesitantly, brushes his fingers across Balthazar’s. He’s a little drunk, he knows, knows that he would never try that again sober, but it’s Balthazar’s birthday and the stars are shining and he’s never seen anyone look so good in a flower crown. Balthazar doesn’t move away, and Peter turns to look at him.

 

“Anyway,” Balthazar sighs. “We should probably go back inside, yeah?” He goes to stand, but Peter catches his fingers and tugs him back slightly. He lands with his nose a centimetre away from Peter’s, lips parted in shock.

 

“Can I kiss you?” Peter asks, and Balthazar nods, a small movement that Peter would miss if he wasn’t so close. Then they are leaning in and their lips meet, Balthazar’s soft against his, and Peter is sure that his own taste like alcohol, but he finds it hard to care, because he is kissing Balthazar, and that can never be a bad thing.

 

Balthazar pulls away with a gasp. “Pete--”

 

“Balthazar, I--”

 

He stands up, and Peter lets go of his hand. “I can’t do this right now, Pete,” Balthazar says, holding his arms tightly to himself. “I won’t… don’t do this out of pity, or whatever sh--”

 

“What?” Peter asks. “Pity? This isn’t out of… I wouldn’t do that.”

 

“Then I don’t know what this is about, Pete.”

 

Momentarily lost for words, Peter opens and closes his mouth. Balthazar stares at him patiently, and his face is set but so filled with pain. He wants to fix it but he doesn’t know how. “If you don’t know, maybe it doesn’t matter,” he says finally.

 

Balthazar swears softly, pulling his sleeves over his hands. “I’m going to leave,” he says. “The rules are back tomorrow, so…” He turns, opening the door, and the loud music from inside leaks out.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Peter says, and the words feel as though they tear something out of his chest when they leave his mouth. Balthazar nods, not looking back, and heads inside. The door shuts behind him softly, and Peter wishes it had been a slam, because then he could have been angry, and anger is a hell of a lot easier to deal with than what he’s feeling.

 

“God,” he groans, and presses his hands to his eyes. He’s drunk and dizzy and angry and sad and hurt and the grass is starting to itch, and he wants to head inside but doesn’t know what he’ll do if he sees Balthazar.

 

He presses harder, and he can see stars.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. Not really.
> 
> (this is not edited i am genuinely sorry for that)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://www.peterdonalduck.tumblr.com/)


End file.
